Alise Gifford
by Sara Hotaru
Summary: The story of the chivalrous klutz. Original characters. Rated for possible later chapters.
1. Applewood Flames

Alise Gifford

Tales of a Chivalrous Klutz

**Dedicated to my mother, who put up with all my crap,**

**Mike, who let me toy with Kol and still loved me after I did,**

**and finally my stupid, misspelled middle name: Alise. (Ah-leese, rhymes with 'crease')**

**Cheers.**

Prologue: _Applewood Flames_

Our story begins in the middle of the night, during a blustery, cold autumn in London. The moon was a white pearl in the sky, sailing on the wisps of clouds. It was the sort of night where one would appreciate a warm blanket, a mug of hot chocolate, and a crackling fire.

In fact, the tale begins with the fire that on that very night was crackling merrily in the parlor fireplace of the Gifford household.

Warren Gifford looked over his paper, giving a soft smile to his young daughter, sitting on the rug. She was happily watching the flames lick at the apple wood, which was wafting the room with a sweet, agreeable scent.

"Don't put your hand in the fire, Alise," he murmured gently.

Little Alise looked up with a smile. "I won't," she told him, then looked back into the flames. They danced softly, reflecting in her round, innocent grey eyes. "It bites."

Warren gave a soft chuckle at the analogy. "Indeed."

"Aren't Mum and Dev coming back yet?" Alise asked.

Warren gave a glance at his watch, then up at the grandfather clock. "They're late," he murmured around his dark mustache, glancing back to the watch. He got himself up with a soft sigh, holding out a hand to his daughter, who jumped to her feet, pink lace dress swirling about her knees. "Come now, let's get you to bed."

"But I..." Alise trailed off, frowning. "I want to wait for them," she looked up, tugging his hand, her eyes wide. "Something's telling me I need to stay downstairs and wait for them."

Warren chuckled softly, then mussed her dark brown hair. "Oh, nonsense, dear one. What could happen?"

Miles away, a sound like a gunshot rent the air. Fifteen-year-old Devlon Gifford jerked himself up in the back seat of the Oldsmobile with a gasp, automatically reaching up to straiten his glasses. "Wh-what was that!"

Eileen Gifford's short blonde curls swung to the side as she steered off the road, drawing a soft hissing breath between her teeth. "Nothing, Hun, just blew the tire."

Devlon nodded hesitantly, pushing his glasses back up his freckled nose. "Warren will worry if we're late," he told her.

"We have a spare, and there's a car jack in the trunk," Eileen raised an eyebrow. "It sounds like _you're_ the one who's worried, Devlon."

Devlon shook his head. "No..."

His mother's other eyebrow raised. "No?"

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "I'm just worried about Alise. I've got a bad feeling..."

Precisely as the grandfather clock in the parlor struck twelve, Alise shot strait up in her bed with a gasp. The smell of apple wood filled the house, but somehow... it was darker.

Sour.

Something was wrong

"Papa?" she asked, toddling out of bed. She coughed. Her throat felt scratchy. "Papa... Mum? Dev?" She swallowed back a bad, bad lonely feeling, but it stayed in her throat. "Papa..." her voice ended in a quiet, fearful squeak.

There was a bright, flickering light showing around all the edges of her bedroom door. It looked almost surreal. Breathing in short, panicked gasps, Alise reached up with both hands for the brass doorknob.

There was a sizzling sound.

With an earsplitting scream, she pulled her hands back, clutching them to her chest. The pain didn't stop. It seeped down into her palms, as though her very bones were on fire. She couldn't get enough air.

Choking slightly on the sickening smell of burnt flesh, she finally mustered enough courage to, whimpering, look at her palms. They were a ghastly white, the burns shiny. It was getting hotter all the time. She was shaking uncontrollably with the pain, tears streaming down her face. The pain wouldn't stop. It wouldn't dull. She lightly pressed her palms to her face, so the tears would drip onto them. It didn't help much.

She couldn't open her hands all the way. She couldn't clench them either. She couldn't move her hands. _She couldn't move her hands._

Panicked, she began hiccupping. She was breathing so fast, so shallow, that she couldn't get any air. "Pa... Papa..." she choked, the door swimming in her vision. There was a creaking noise upstairs, followed by a yell, and then a large crash. The floorboards shook under her feet.

"Papa," she cried, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. The smell of smoke was assaulting her senses now. "Papa! Come get me, I'm scared...!" there was a groan from directly above her, then another thunderous crash. "Papa!"

Frantic, Alise half-raised her hands to the doorknob again, and found them wilting back. She couldn't forget the pain that still raged through both her hands. The smoke smelled horrible, so much she didn't want to breathe. For a moment, she doubled over with a coughing fit.

Biting her lip, she reached out and clamped her already badly burned palms on the glowing door handle, and lost her breath with another scream.

The handle wouldn't turn. It wouldn't turn! _Papa, it won't turn!_

With a deafening **_bang_**, the door exploded. Shards and splinters flew past her, cutting her face and bare arms, ripping her nightdress. Her eyes wide, she stared through the doorway, along with the now scarred wall.

The entire living room was engulfed in flames.

Whimpering, Alise backed up, until she hit her bed. She fell to the floor, staring into the flames, clutching her throbbing hands to her chest. She began to cough again, so hard she thought she'd be sick. There was no way out. There was no path through the flames. _There was no way out._

Someone screamed, but it wasn't her.

Alise's heart leapt into her throat as an axe slammed through her tightly closed window. Glass shattered across the floor, and a hand clamped over the side of the pane. At first she didn't recognize the pale, familiar face, the fine blond hair that fell into wide brown eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. But then he spoke, and her heart rose in elation. Though she made no sound, tears streamed down her face as she held out her arms.

Devlon Gifford swept Alise up in his arms, holding her tightly to him. She buried her face in her older half-brother's shoulder, holding on even tighter than him, so tight her hands screamed in pain.

He pulled them both through the window, pushing stray shards of glass away with his hands, and jumped onto the hard ground outside. He only managed a few steps towards the street before they were surrounded by neighbors, and their mother, sobbing, had thrown her arms around both of them.

She could hear a siren, faint in the distance. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. But no one seemed to be listening to her. "Papa's still inside," she cried, trying to point at the house, but her hands wouldn't work right. It hurt too much to move them. "He's still inside...!"

Devlon heard her. Giving a frantic gasp, he shoved her into her mother's arms, spinning around towards the house, running towards it.

"No...!"

"Blimey, what's he doing!"

"Devlon!"

"He's already gone in once-"

"Devlon, you can't-"

Alise wasn't listening. The sirens were deafening now. Squirming down from her mother's arms, she raced after her big brother, who was now climbing up the trellis, heading for one of the upper windows of the burning house. The flames were licking out of her bedroom window now, and from there she could see it flickering on the second floor, too...

"Dev!" she shrieked, grabbing onto his pant leg. Suddenly there were firemen and neighbors all around her, helping her pull her elder half-brother back from the trellis, though he fought them for all he was worth.

"It's all right, son, it's okay-"

"He's still in there!" Devlon gasped, his glasses knocked askew. "We can't just leave him-"

Firemen were already shouting orders. Hoses were already sputtering to life. Ladders were extending to meet the high throes of the building.

Several firemen disappeared inside the window. Smoke continued to billow out, flames to lick the walls of the lower levels. At this rate, the entire building could collapse.

Clinging to both Devlon and her mother, Alise held her breath, watching the upstairs window. After nearly a minute, several firemen emerged, making their way down the ladder, carrying a limp figure-

Alise heard someone screaming and realized it was her. It was only when the charred, limp, unrecognizable form was ushered on a stretcher to the waiting ambulance that she, her mother, and her brother realized the fully horror of what they were seeing. It was Warren.

Devlon seemed to be in a different world. Alise couldn't speak at all. As soon as they were loaded into the back of the ambulance, the doors closed behind them, she became aware of the tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

"Warren," he mother whispered. She was kneeling next to Alise's father's prone form, still sprawled on the stretcher. Paramedics were giving him oxygen, inserting IV's, and shouting orders to each other.

Underneath the oxygen mask, Alise watched her father's blurry eyes open. The entire left side of his body, including his face, was an angry, shiny red. His cheek, nose, lips and chin looked like a melted candle. His clothes were charred, and even Alise knew that the skin underneath was burned so badly that there was no way to repair it.

He didn't say anything, didn't move, but smiled with his eyes. They closed. Then, there came the sound that would echo in their hearts forever.

The long, loud, unbroken beep of the heart monitor.

-----


	2. The Owl

_Just a note: Sara is a liar. I'm not British or Japanese, at least not by percentages in the double digits. I was born and raised in Colorado, USA. Also, I'm human. I have spelling and grammar mistakes. If you find some, tell me so, and I'll fix them. And give you a cookie._

_... or not._

-----

Chapter One: _The Owl_

The sky was a violent shade of blue on Wisteria Walk that afternoon in July. Sitting on the patio bench of her balcony, on the side of the apartment complex in which she lived, eleven-year-old Alise Gifford watched the birds flutter by. Curled up at her feet like a small, scrappy brown cushion was her Yorkshire terrier, Roxy. Every now and again, Roxy would give a soft, wheezy growl at the shadow under the car across the street, Tufty, one of Mrs. Figg's many cats. Each time, Alise would give the terrier a nudge with her bare toe, and the growling would cease, only to start up again within a few minutes.

"Sweets, I'm off to the store," Eileen Gifford's voice sounded after the thump and click of a door as it shut. Looking down at her mother on the walkway, Alise gave a disinterested nod. She wished her mother would drop that babyish nickname. It was a play on 'sweetie', and she really wouldn't have minded it too much if her mother hadn't been in the habit using it more than her real name. That, of course, was excepting the occasions when Mum referred to her as '_Alise Silvanus Gifford', _the complete name on her birth certificate. It was also Alise's name when she was in Deep Trouble. "Want anything?"

"Nah," she responded, and stared back up at the swallows, who were building a nest in the old birch tree, with a little smile on her face. "I'm fine."

As her mother started up the guffawing Oldsmobile, Alise gave a wave. She watched her drive down the street, and then she straitened her black, fingerless gloves, nudging Roxy with her toe again.

"C'mon, girl," she said lightly, hopping off the bench. The little terrier bounced to her feet, tail wagging so hard her entire body shook. "Let's go in and-"

Alise's sentence was cut off, as she'd seen something that struck her dumb. Mouth dropping open, she raced to the edge of the balcony, gripping the cast iron and leaning so far forwards, she might have been in danger of toppling off.

Above the street, circling gracefully, was a large screech owl.

Nearly hyperventilating in excitement, Alise whispered harshly to Roxy, "I've _never_ seen one of those out in the daytime...! What could it be doing here?" the little terrier whined softly, as though saying she had no idea. "Oh, blimey..."

"What's all this, then?" a quiet, calculated voice asked, and the glass sliding door opened. Alise's older half-brother Devlon, who was in his late teens, raised one eyebrow so high it could be seen over his horn-rimmed glasses.

"Dev, look!" Alise said breathlessly, pointing. "It's an owl!"

"Really now?" he asked, stepping up to her side, looking up in the direction she pointed. "...where?"

"Just there!" she pointed again, then blinked, her joyful expression melting into confusion. "Wait, where'd it..." she'd no sooner uttered this, then something shot towards her, clipping her so hard on the forehead, she nearly fell over. "Yeowch!"

There was a soft hooting noise, and the owl whooshed silently over them, perching itself on the storm drain. Dumbfounded, Alise and Devlon stared up it. Roxy yapped, bouncing around in circles. The owl hooted back once, as though the terrier had insulted it, and took off again in a huff. It circled the house once before disappearing over the rooftops.

It was only when it was out of sight that Alise nudged Roxy with her toe, shutting her up. Devlon jumped slightly, seeming to come back to reality, and prodded his sister in the shoulder.

"Oi. Look at that..."

Alise followed his pointing finger to an envelope of slightly yellowed parchment sitting on the cement of the balcony. Curiously, she bent down, shoving away the excited terrier, and picked it up. It was held closed with a very official-looking red wax seal, which looked as though it had been stamped. That was something rarely seen anymore. Studying it, Alise noted that it depicted a lion, a badger, a raven, and a snake around a capitol letter H.

"It's addressed to you," Devlon said incredulously, tapping the other side of the envelope. Dumbfounded, Alise turned it over. He was right. In neat cursive of green ink, the letter was addressed -

_**Miss. Alise Gifford**_

_**The Balcony**_

_**Wisteria Walk, Apartment 18**_

_**Little Whinging**_

_**Surrey**_

"... so plain there could be no mistake," Devlon whispered, almost in awe. Alise gave him a questioning look. "Er... never mind. Open it!" Nodding, she pulled free the red wax seal, and unfolded a sheaf of parchment that looked the same as the envelope. It read -

**Dear Miss. Gifford,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. **

**Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.**

**Yours Sincerely,**

**Minerva McGonagall,**

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

For a few more moments, Alise simply stared at the letter. Then she finally raised her eyes to Devlon, who was peering over her shoulder. "Wha... what's this mean...? Witchcraft... Wizardry...?"

"Gramma..." Devlon whispered. Alise looked up.

"What about her?" Emmeline Gifford had been dead since soon after Alise's birth, so it utterly escaped her why her brother would suddenly bring up her paternal grandmother.

"She..." Devlon grabbed the envelope again, raking his fingers back through his fine blond hair, making it stick out at odd angles. "The night..." he trailed off, taking a breath, seemed to gather his thoughts, and looked seriously up at her.

"The night she died," he said softly, "She told me something strange... '_If ever there is a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake... believe it...'"_

Alise stared at him, then took a step backward, looking down at her toes. Roxy gave a low whine.

A chuckle surged through her, exploding in a loud, hysterical giggle. "Oh, gawd," she managed, clenching her arms over her stomach, stumbling and collapsing against the sliding glass door, holding onto it to keep herself upright. "Dev, you've outdone yourself..."

Devlon's mouth dropped open, and he blinked several times, holding the letter in his outstretched hand. "Alise... I didn't..."

"C'mon, I've already caught you," she giggled, still struggling to catch her breath. Another wave of laughter cut off Devlon's attempted response. "Though how you got that owl to deliver it, I'll never know-"

"_Alise,"_ Devlon seized her shoulders, but it didn't seem to stem the giggling. He gave her a sharp shake. The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by shocked silence. "I didn't send it."

"But-" Alise's lip twitched slightly. "But that's... can't be..." she studied her older brother's serious eyes. He'd never lied to her. Not ever. She could always count on Devlon to give her the truth of the situation, no matter whether it was nice or not...

She uttered an explicit swear word.

Their mother's golden-curled head popped through the gap in the sliding glass door, a scandalized look on her face. The expression was followed by a swing of a heavy purse, punctuated with a shriek.

"_Alise!"_

_-----_

: Author's Notes :

Name Pronunciation and Backgrounds

**Alise** (ah-_LEES, _rhymes with _crease_) – Alise's name was actually the product of a spelling mistake on my parents' part. My parents had opted not to be informed of my gender during my mother's pregnancy, and for some reason they anticipated a boy. When it came to giving me a middle name, the first that came to mind was "Elise". Being from a TV series, they had never seen the name in print, and guessed at its spelling.

**Devlon** (dehv-len, 'lon' rhymes with _kin_) – Full credit for this one goes to Michael Upchurch, who seems to have an endless arsenal of foreign names.

**Eileen** (pronounced _'eye-lean'_) – As I child I could never remember Queen Elizabeth's name properly, and was often corrected by my exasperated teachers when I referred to her as 'Queen Eileen'. I'm not sure of the real reason I said 'Eileen' instead of 'Elizabeth', but I suppose it was because it rhymed.

**Gifford** (GIH-ferd) – In a magazine, I once read an article about codenames, and a formula for creating one. Middle name First name; Name of the street you grew up on Last Name. This made my codename 'Alise Gifford'.

**Nicolas "Kolya" Vasiliev** (Nee-ko-lass kol-yah vah-SEE-lee-ev) – Full credit for character, name and personality all goes to Mike.

**Silvanus** (sil-VAH-nis) – I blame the game Neverwinter Nights for this one. _'Silvanus' wife went mad one night, murdering her child by candlelight.' _Silvanus was the name of the god of the forest.

**Warren** (Wah-rin, 'Wa' rhymes with the 'wha' in _what_) – I happened to have a copy of _Peter Rabbit_ on my desk when it came time to name this character. A rabbit's hole is called a warren, which for some reason I find odd. While typing, I began thinking on it and distractedly typed the word into the space I'd cleared for the name.


	3. Wizards, Russians and Other Oddities

_Here we are, the introduction of Kolya! Keep your eyes peeled, and you may catch a glimpse of some more familiar characters..._

-----

Chapter 2: _Wizards, Russians and Other Oddities_

_In the light of the information that the addressee was born to Muggles (non-wizarding folk) with no known relatives of the wizarding ilk, we enclose this set of instructions to Diagon Alley, London, where you will find the necessary shops to meet the needs of your school list._

Alise looked from the slip of paper in her hand to the tiny, grubby-looking pub in front of her, then back again. Yes, this was the Leaky Cauldron. She reached out and grabbed Devlon's sleeve. "This is it."

"What's it?" Devlon asked. "Don't see anything."

"Look properly," Alise told him, pointing. Confused, her brother looked from the large bookstore on one side to the record shop on the other, as though all he saw was an alley. Slightly frustrated, she handed him the slip of paper with the directions. "Look, see? The Leaky Cauldron."

He peered at the slip of paper, then back up to where she pointed. His mouth dropped open. Curiously, she raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Could have sworn..." he murmured, then shrugged again, and Alise grinned. She had the curious feeling that he really had only seen an alleyway the first time he'd looked.

"C'mon then," she told him, rushing happily into the pub, looking forward immensely to seeing the shops full of spellbooks and magic wands. The door swung closed behind them with a cheery jangling noise.

Nearly everyone inside was wearing a cloak, even though it was a bright, sunny day. Several old women sat at the bar, drinking glasses of something that seemed to be smoking. Laughter rang from all over. As Alise walked through the din, towards the counter, she could catch snatches of conversation from around them.

"And then he told me I couldn't tell a knarl from a hedgehog, and I couldn't take that lying down, so I hit him with a bat-bogey hex right in the face..." a pockmarked young man around nineteen was telling two of his friends excitedly.

"But you _can't_ tell a knarl from a hedgehog, Miles-"

"Well, maybe not!" Miles retorted shrilly, "But you should have seen his face after I was done with-"

"Can I help you, miss?" asked a kind, quiet voice. Alise looked up into the face of an old man with a long silvery white beard that reached his belt. With twinkling eyes he looked over half-moon spectacles perched on a long, crooked nose that looked to have been broken at least twice. "You seem to be looking for something."

"Yes, actually," Alise said politely, glancing over her shoulder at Devlon, who nodded. "Could you point us towards Diagon Alley?"

"Daresay I could," he replied simply, sweeping around, cricking a finger for them to follow. Excited, Alise hurried after him, Devlon following.

The wispy old man led them through the pub and out the back door, to a rather deserted, walled off courtyard with a trash can and a few weeds. Moving strait to the brick wall above the trash can, the old man slipped a length of wood from his sleeve, which Alise was startled to realize was a wand, and began counting bricks. He got to the desired portion of the wall, and tapped his wand three times.

Devlon jumped, clutching her shoulder as the brick wriggled. Then a swirling hole grew in its center, spiraling outward until a large archway appeared, tall enough for a man twice as tall as Devlon to pass through without even grazing the top. It led onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Wow..." Alise murmured, stepping towards it.

"Thank you, si-" Devlon stopped, and she looked back at him. He was peering around the courtyard, which was quite empty, still seeming dumbstruck. "He's... gone," he said dumbly.

"Our first real wizard, and we didn't have time to ask his name," Alise said rather sadly. Devlon clapped her on the shoulder.

"I'll meet you back here at five then, all right?" he asked. She nodded back, showing him the watch on her wrist, over her black glove. "Good. Sorry I can't stay with you," he told her with a sigh, patting her shoulder. "But the boss wants some last-minute work before I go back to school."

"It's all right," she told him cheerfully. "Go on, you'll be late..."

"Blimey!" Devlon jumped slightly, glancing at his watch, and gave a quick wave. "Don't forget. Five o'clock, out in front..."

"I won't!" she told him, and he gave her a grin before dashing back into the pub, nearly knocking into a family of three on the way. Alise gave a gasp, realizing the archway was closing, and rushed through it. There were a few yells in Russian behind her, and a boy about her age came hurtling through just as it closed, nearly knocking her over.

He shouted something back, seeming agitated, then smoothed back his fine, nearly strait blonde hair. Then he looked up, jumping slightly, as though just realizing she was there.

"Sorry," he told her through a heavy Russian accent, a light blush coloring his pale cheeks. "Parents, you know..."

"Don't worry about it," Alise waved a hand as though to brush it off, smiling. "Sorry I didn't hold the... er... the archway for you."

"It's not as zough you could haff held it anyvay," he told her reassuringly. "It closes after a few seconds." Taking the black felt ribbon from the low, loose ponytail, he held daintily it in his teeth, smoothing back his hair so it looked much tidier, then using the ribbon to tie it back again. "I'm Kolya Vasiliev, by ze vay," he said cheerfully, holding out a hand as soon as he'd finished.

"Alise Gifford," Alise told him with a smile, clasping his hand. "Are you a student? I just got into... Er..."

"Hogvarts?" he supplied, and she nodded, realizing now that he had on some light makeup. "I am a first year too," he told her with a smile. She beamed. "Vould you need some sho'ving around? Unless you've been here before..."

"No, I haven't," Alise told him. "That'd be great."

"Vell, come on!" Kolya said happily, waving her along over his shoulder, setting off along the cobblestones. Alise gave a startled blink as he turned to the very vacant spot beside him, saying. "I feel like company. Stop sniggering!"

"First stop, Gringotts," Kolya said over the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Alise was looking around so much that he'd grabbed her sleeve to keep her from getting lost. She wished she had about five more pairs of eyes so she could see everything they were passing. Kolya had to drag her when she stopped in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium, as well as the Magical Menagerie.

"What's Gringotts?" she asked. He cocked an eyebrow, looking back at her.

"Vizard's bank," he told her. She gave him such a look of unrestrained surprise that he asked. "Alise, vere you Muggle-born?"

"Wha? Er - yeah," she said, remembering what a 'Muggle' was at the last second. "Sorry..."

"Don't be sorry," he told her with a nonchalant shrug. "Just means you have a bit to learn. Don't vorry about it. Lots of kids come from Muggle families, and -" he gave a look to cobblestones to his right, though there was absolutely nothing there that Alise could see. "- and zey do all right."

"Really?" Alise asked, her spirits brightening, not wondering much about her companion's seemingly invisible entourage. Kolya nodded, and they stopped in front of the largest building on the street, made of snowy white stone.

"Gringotts," he said with a flourish of his hand. "Make sure you mind ze goblins."

"Goblins?" Alise gasped excitedly, and Kolya nodded. He seemed to be enjoying her delight at what were likely the most simple things of the wizarding world. Alise didn't have to wait long to see a goblin. There was one standing outside the large brass doors. It was short, about a head shorter than Alise; a squat, wizened creature that resembled a human but for its abnormally large, beaky nose, leathery skin and clawed fingers. The goblin bowed to them as they went inside.

Two more goblins showed them graciously through the second set of doors, silver this time, engraved with the words -

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"You vould be mad to rob Gringotts," Kolya told her, catching her reading the inscription.

"Why-" Alise began, but again, words failed her as they entered the huge marble hall. The goblins had caught her attention.

They were scurrying about and sitting behind teller booths, either doing paperwork or measuring glittering gems or priceless metals. Kolya led her up to the far teller booth, to a particularly wizened goblin that was weighing a pile of glimmering rubies the size of small eggs. He leaned forward to see them, as the booth was about two feet higher than their heads. Under his scrutinizing gaze, Alise mindlessly attempted to smooth her dark, permanently windswept hair.

"Change of currency, please," Kolya told the goblin, "Muggle to vizard. Along vith a visit to vault eight huntdred and four."

"Indeed," replied the goblin, in a voice as wizened as he was. "Vasiliev, then?" he asked, checking a note on his desk. Kolya nodded. "Do you have your key, sir?"

Kolya slipped a tiny golden key from his pocket, placing it on the counter. He had to reach up on his tiptoes. "Here ve are."

The goblin gave the tiny key as scrutinizing a look as he'd just given them, and then glanced backed down. "Yes, that seems to be in order. I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Ulric!"

Ulric was another goblin, who showed them off the hallway, to a room much removed from the marble. It was an earthen passageway lit by torches, with small tracks on the floor. Ulric whistled, and what looked like a small mine cart came hurtling around a bend, coming to a screeching stop before them.

"Why would someone be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Alise asked as they clambered in.

"High security," grunted Ulric.

Kolya glanced back. "Hold onto-"

The cart jerked forward, throwing Alise onto her backside with a shriek. As she made to get up, the cart jerked around a corner at an insane speed, sending her slamming into the side.

"Hey now!" Kolya sputtered indignantly at Ulric, helping up a gasping Alise.

"Should've held on," the goblin said with a swarthy grin.

Alise might have been annoyed, but once she stood, she couldn't help enjoying the exhilarating cart ride. It reminded her of a roller coaster. After a moment they were rumbling over a rocky ravine.

"What kind of security?" she asked Kolya in an undertone.

"Spells, enchantments," he whispered back. "Zere are even some rumors of dragons guarding ze vaults."

"_Dragons?"_ Alise asked, spellbound with delight. They didn't have time to say more, though, because they'd come to an abrupt stop in front of a small door in the dark wall, lit by torchlight. Ulric hopped out, followed by Kolya, who looked a little sick, and Alise, who had to lean momentarily against the wall so her legs would stop wobbling.

"Exchange," Ulric grunted, then inserted a brass key into the doorway, then pushing it open. Alise momentarily went numb, her eyes as wide as saucers. She suddenly knew how Aladdin felt, when he first entered the chambers of the treasure.

She jumped as Ulric gave her a small prod in the back.

"Money, please."

Alise blinked, taking a moment to figure it out. "Oh!" she gave a little gasp, then plunged her hand into her coat pocket, coming up with a roll of different pound notes, which her mother had given her that morning. It was more money than she'd ever seen in her life, until now.

Ulric took the notes, riffled them, nodded to himself, then took a leather bag from a small pile by the door. He began to count out the coins.

"Ze gold vuns are Galleons," Kolya explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and tventy-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle, it's simple enough."

Alise nodded, still dumbstruck.


End file.
